


Not a Scapegoat

by Diary



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Alive Aiden & Allison Argent, Alive Allison Argent & Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Pass, Canon Character of Color, Erica Reyes-centric, Established Relationship, Established Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, F/M, Friendship/Love, Insecurity, Interracial Relationship, Late Night Conversations, POV Character of Color, POV Erica Reyes, POV Nonhuman, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6160084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reposted under a different title. “I imagine there are a lot of words Boyd would use to describe you. I don’t think any of them come close to the words you’re applying to yourself.” Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Scapegoat

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf.

Erica's day was going good, but now, Lydia has come over to their lunch table.

“Hmm." Lydia studies Boyd's textbook. "Classical Latin?”

“What do you want,” Erica demands.

“You’re conjugating that wrong. In the interest of attempting to end the bad blood between the two of you and the rest of us, I’d be happy to help you study.”

“Back off,” Erica warns. “He doesn’t need your kind of ‘studying’.”

Lydia gives her a look. “Don’t be so pathetically insecure in your attacks, sweetie. Or so hypocritical, for that matter. I couldn’t take this one if I wanted him, which, I don’t.” Turning back to Boyd, she says, “You have my number. If you getting an A plus is acceptable to your girlfriend, give me a call.”

She walks away, and Boyd gives Erica searching look.

Shaking her head, she says, “Lydia could steal anyone’s boyfriend.”

“Not yours.” He links their fingers together.

“I know. I’m just remembering how I couldn’t even get Scott or Stiles to take an interest in me.”

“Their loss and my gain,” he says with a soft smile.

…

Lydia’s waiting at her locker. “I don’t presume to know what your life goals are, but I’ve heard Boyd talk about college and moving away from this seemingly sleepily, in reality, magnet to the weird town. Just tell me, do you want that for him or not? I mean, are you planning to go with him, or-”

“Of course, I want that,” she snaps.

They’ve talked about going to some big state and trying to find a proper pack. He has a list of colleges he’s going to try to get accepted to, and she hopes she can find a full-time job at a bakery somewhere. If not, waitressing is always an option.

“Then, accept my help. I don’t have any use for his type of boy.”

“What is that supposed to mean? He didn’t turn into a giant lizard and kill people, or kill people and lock three teenagers into a vault.”

Besides, Boyd is ambitious, smart, confident, and a hard-worker. Those are all qualities Erica knows Lydia looks for in boys.

“True,” Lydia acknowledges. “What it comes down to is: He may have been willing to kill me, but he’s the one who was the least changed after getting the bite. In your relationship, honey, he’s the good boy, and you’re the bad girl. That isn’t a judgement. I’m trying to ease off the bad boy thing, but I definitely want to be the good girl in any serious relationship I have. As for the non-serious, I can appreciate Boyd’s attributes, but it still comes down to the fact I think I can handle causal so much better than he could.”

“Think about it,” Lydia finishes.

…

“Lydia came to my locker earlier. It ended without bloodshed.”

“What did she want?”

“To tutor you,” she answers. “And I think you should let her.”

He gives her a surprised look.

“You don’t have the same dislike for her as I do," she says. "And whatever I feel for her, she can probably help you get into a good college. We can finally have some clue where we’re going after graduation.”

“You’d really be okay with it?”

She nods. “I know you love me.”

“I know you love me, too.” He kisses her.

…

Sitting down, Lydia says, “Congratulations.”

Erica has to sit on her hands to keep from reaching over to claw her.

“I looked at your chemistry grades, and you could do better.”

“I’m making an A,” Boyd points out.

“Barely,” Lydia scoffs. “I can get you up in the top percentile with me.”

Erica resists the urge to say, ‘In case either of you care, I’m making an A in chemistry, too.’

She knows Boyd cares. Because of his help, she’s making a B in English (she’s still waiting on an explanation for when and how knowing the difference between soliloquies and monologues, let alone what either actually is, will prove to be helpful as a grown-up), and he’s always proud when she gets social study tests back with a perfect score.

“Yes, but the Latin pronunciation,” Lydia says.

She eats her lunch while her boyfriend and Lydia Martin talk in a language she can’t understand.

At one point, they literally start talking in Latin.

Some of her more religious Catholic family members had wanted to take her to services with them when she was younger. She hadn’t wanted to go, and her mother, a former Baptist and current nondenominational, had always backed up her decision.

Catholics still recite prayers in Latin, don’t they, she wonders. Maybe I should call them up and see if the offer’s still open.

She imagines Lydia probably knows more Spanish than she does, too.

Her mother can usually understand the language but can’t speak it. Her dad is conversational, but he’s never taught her. The members of her family who are fluent are the crazy religious ones who probably would have ended up killing her with an exorcism if given the opportunity.

“What do you think, Erica,” Boyd’s voice breaks her out of her thought.

Looking up, she answers, “I wasn’t listening.”

He looks at her in concern, and she shakes her head. “Just thinking about the people in my family who know Latin.” At his sympathetic look, she asks, “What’d I miss?”

“Have you ever seen The Stepford Wives,” Lydia asks.

“Yes,” she answers. “Including the sequels and remake. Why?”

“Allison’s class is studying the book this semester. Any chance you’ve read that, as well,” Lydia inquires in her sarcastically sweet tone.

“No,” she answers.

She knows Boyd has, and Lydia probably does, too.

“The teacher wants to do a movie watch, but they’re putting it to a vote today whether it should be the original or the remake. Allison isn’t sure which way to vote.”

“What teacher?”

Lydia shrugs.

Scanning the room, Erica sees Allison and Isaac talking.

Leaning over, she kisses Boyd. “I’ll be right back.”

…

Ignoring Allison’s suspicious look, she accepts the apple slices Isaac offers her. “Who’s your English teacher?”

“Mrs Davenport,” Allison answers. “Why?”

“I’ll talk to her. There shouldn’t even be a vote. The original version is so vastly superior it’s unreal.”

“Wait, just to make sure we’re on the same page: We’re talking about The Stepford Wives, right? How do you even know about that?”

“Boyd and Lydia were probably talking about how the context would be altered if it was dubbed in archaic Latin,” she answers. “I don’t know. The important thing is that the god-awful remake be given no form of validation, even if it’s just in a high school classroom. When’s your class?”

“English is second period, but we’re not voting until sometime next week. Mrs Davenport’s daughter had a baby, and she’s taking some vacation time to help her out.”

“I’ll talk to her when she comes back,” she insists. “In the meantime, do you have a VCR?”

“I think we have one in storage.”

“I’ll bring you the DVD of the remake and the video tapes of the original and sequels. If you can’t find the VCR, I think the original, at least, is somewhere on YouTube. I’ll send you a link. You can see for yourself.”

“Okay,” Allison agrees. “You’re very passionate about this.”

“I’m not one of those purists that thinks the originals’ always better. The 1995 Village of the Damned is better than the 60’s version. But no matter how awesome Nicole Kidman is, no one should be subjected to that movie.”

“Except for me,” Allison says.

“Just watch the original, first,” Erica grumbles. “If you can’t make through the remake, I won’t hold it against you.”

Walking back over, she leans into Boyd’s open arm.

“Mind telling those of us without super-hearing what that was about,” Lydia asks.

“You sometimes have advanced hearing. And I’m going to try my best to make sure Davenport makes the right choice for movie watch.”

“Leaving now,” Lydia declares.

Once she’s gone, Boyd looks at her. “I think Allison is happy.”

The statement throws her.

“This is the first time either of us has talked to her without a life-or-death reason since the vault,” he explains.

“We’ll manage to get on her shoot-to-kill list soon enough,” she says.

He doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t push.

He’s already decided, if next time comes, he’ll attack, regardless of the guns or arrows aimed at him. She still insists he should have kept running and never looked back.

They hardly ever argue, but when it comes to this one subject, the arguments can get downright brutal and leave both of them miserable and alone for days.

…

She holds out the tapes and DVD to Allison. “Here.”

“Thank you. My dad and I found the VCR and got it hooked up. Could you and I talk?”

“After you watch them, sure,” she answers. She knows Allison probably means about Victoria Argent’s death, Erica’s past list of sins, and/or about how Allison almost killed her and Boyd, and she chooses to be deliberately obtuse. “You’ll form your own opinions better that way.”

She walks away before Allison can say anything else.

…

Boyd and Lydia are working on some chemistry project in the chem. lab, and Erica is eating alone.

“Could I talk to you?”

She looks up to see Scott.

Motioning for him to sit down, she goes back to eating her lunch.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do more to help you when you were still human.”

Feeling her blood boil, she scoffs. “You know, Boyd once said that he can kind of see things from your side. You were attacked, and weird things happened to your body that you couldn’t understand or control. Well, guess what? You learned jack from that. That was what I had to deal with every frikking day. And you know what? Yeah, Derek has messed up a lot, but he also gave me freedom, in a way. My body is finally my own. It doesn’t betray me. But you hate werewolves, even though you are one. You think being human is better, and you can’t see why someone else might not.”

“I-”

“I’m not done,” she snaps. “I don’t care that you didn’t stand up for me when I was human. When we were both werewolves, you could have been my friend. You could have told me how nice I looked and offered to teach me the tricks you’d learned. You could have said you were happy for me but that you needed to warn me about Derek. I might not have gone completely over to Team Scott, but I would have listened. Instead, you made me feel like you would have made me go back to being sick all the time, if you could.”

Finishing, she says, “I’m sorry about what happened to you. I mean that sincerely. I’m sorry for some of the things I did to you and your friends. But the bite really can be a gift, and you have no right to say that people are wrong for accepting it.”

The bell rings, and ignoring his attempts to get her to wait, she quickly leaves.

…

Boyd has an emergency shift at the skating rink, and she finds herself sitting in the park and watching the ducks.

They all have a pack, she bitterly muses. Why can’t I?

She’s so happy with Boyd, and she thought, maybe, together, they could handle any threats even without help. The extra strength of a pack would be nice, but she doesn’t need one to feel emotionally satisfied.

Except, she only knows about ten elements on the periodic table, she has trouble with English, never mind foreign languages, and unlike Boyd and Lydia, restraint has never been her strong suit. Even when trying to be unnoticed as possible, she still did things she shouldn’t have and caused trouble for herself, if not anyone else.

“It sucks, doesn’t it?”

Fear pounds in her heart, and uncaring about the nearby people, she lets her claws and teeth appear.

Sliding onto the bench, one of the twins says, “I won’t hurt you, if you don’t try to hurt me. See? In human form.”

Taking a breath, she lets her claws and teeth disappear.

“I’m Aiden,” he tells her.

“Screw you.”

“Fair enough,” he says. “That’s what everyone does. My old pack. Scott. Even my brother. You can hate me, but we have a lot in common.”

“I don’t go around locking teenagers in vaults.”

“No, you just try to seduce people on the orders of your alpha or because you like them and don’t care about their girlfriend. You just go around trying to kill those you think might be a threat instead of trying to save them. You just like walking around school and feeling the eyes of everyone on you. You just really like this boy, who, despite his outward front, isn’t really suited for the bad girl.”

At her reaction, he laughs. “It’s not a judgement. I wondered why Derek chose you, you know. Boyd’s smart. Isaac’s good at integration. You- you’re pretty and strong and brave, but what else do you bring to the table?”

“What,” she asks.

“The same thing I do,” he answers. “We’re the scapegoats. Everyone walks on us until we fight back, and when we finally do, we’re the aggressors. We have to be stopped. There’s no forgiveness or excuse. I’ll never be worthy enough to be anything but Lydia’s extended fling, and once Boyd starts to realise how someone like Lydia is actually an option for him, that, like Ethan, he’s lucky enough he doesn’t have to be a scapegoat, do you really think you’ll keep being his precious girlfriend?”

“You never showed this side in the vault,” she says. “You’re even better than Peter at using just your words. Boyd loves me.”

“Love doesn’t always mean that people will last. Look at Scott and Argent.”

The tears fall, and because, she’s apparently living in some storybook, she notices the weather has been slowly changing from mildly cloudy to downright rainy. The others in the park are beginning to leave.

Beside her, he fidgets. “You never cried in-”

“Oh, shut up,” she orders. “We both know I did. I just refused to do it in front of any of you.”

Wiping her tears, she looks over to find him looking at her with genuine- not concern, but discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and whatever parts he’s apologising for, she can hear and feel his sincerity.

“Yeah, well, if I’d done anything to you before the vault, I’d apologise. As it is, sucks for your bad luck with Lydia.”

He nods, and she finds herself leaning forward.

The kiss is nice but all wrong, and as soon as she realises this is one of the monsters who put her in a vault and tried to kill her and her friends several times, she jumps up in disgust.

He catches her wrist before her claws can make contact.

“Don’t,” he warns. “That was a mistake, but I didn’t force you. I haven’t made any moves against you.”

Wrenching her wrist free, she walks away.

… 

Finding a nice, secluded spot, she sits.

Baptism has never meant anything to her. Her mother once told her the Catholic members of their family wanted her baptised when she was a baby. Her mother had promised, as if she were saying something important, she never had be baptised unless she felt it was necessary. 

She’s never understood why rain is sometimes used to show characters are redeemed or on their way.

She desperately wishes the rain could make what she did alright. She wonders if all the praying she did in the vault actually worked and if she should start praying now.

“Erica!”

Or maybe, I should just kill myself while I’m ahead, she thinks.

Turning, she sees Chris Argent jogging over and trying to keep an umbrella over his head. Seeing the hail coming close to hitting his skin gives her a better idea of how bad the weather truly is than the continually cold pricks against her skin do.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” she growls.

“It’s pouring down hail,” he says with his voice full of exasperation. “Get in the car.”

“No.”

“Erica, you can’t stay out in this weather.”

“I’m a werewolf. Based on how you’re keeping one hand close to where your gun is instead of using both to hold the umbrella, I don’t think you’ve forgotten. I know I haven’t forgotten what happened the last time you took me. Boyd isn’t here. So, either leave me alone, or we’ll see which one of us is killed.”

“Listen to me: I’ll take you straight home.”

“If I wanted to go home, I’d be walking there.” She winces when a hailstone nicks his skin.

“Get in the car, or I’m calling the police and your parents.”

“Go ahead,” she snaps.

“I’ll call Boyd.”

She starts to inform him Boyd won’t believe a word he says, but the realisation Boyd will call her stops her. She’s not sure she can convince him she’s okay, and if she doesn’t answer, he’ll reluctantly listen to what Chris has to say and go into potential danger. There’s a small chance Boyd doesn’t have his phone or doesn’t have it on, but she’s not willing to take it.

“I’m pretty sure this counts as kidnapping,” she retorts before storming over to the car. “But then,” she continues when he gets in, “it’s not like that’s bothered you before.”

“What’s wrong, Erica?”

“Nothing. I’m just dandy. Take me home or to your basement or wherever.”

Suddenly realising he might not even know Boyd’s cell or home number, she sighs.

“Werewolf or not, sitting outside during a hailstorm doesn’t strike me as a person being okay." 

“And why are you pretending to care?”

“Do you want to know the truth, or do you want to keep casting me as the villain?”

“You and your daughter hunted me down. I tried to kill her best friend and steal her boyfriend. I imagine you’re not too choked up about that part, but we’re all going to be villains to each other.”

He sighs. “Where do you want to go, Erica? To one of your parents? Derek? Anyone else?”

Slumping down in her seat, she says, “Tell me the truth. I’ll wait until you’re done to say anything.”

“I had a complicated relationship with both my sister and Peter.”

Surprised and vaguely interested, she looks over.

“When the Hale house burnt down, I did feel badly. None of them deserved that. Peter- I knew him on a personal level. He wasn’t the only one, but even though he and I didn’t get along, I suppose you could say I was closer to him than the others. Knowing what happened to him and knowing what he’d go through if he ever came out of his coma made feel angry on his behalf. I felt sympathy for him.”

“There were always whispers it was Kate,” he continues. “And I should have reached out to Laura Hale. I should have talked to Derek. I should have made sure. Some part of me, a big part, actually, knew she was capable of it. Nevertheless, she was my sister. No matter how badly we got along at times, I loved her. I will always love her, and I might not miss her in the conventional sense, but I’ll always miss her. I’ll always think, ‘She should still be alive.’”

“There’s nothing wrong with loving your little sister,” she says.

Shrugging, he shakes his head. “Outwardly, I guess I handled it pretty well. It seemed like I did, at the time. Now, I don’t think I did.”

“When my father –Gerard- came, he did things I knew were wrong, but he claimed it was for Kate. She was his pride and joy. He genuinely missed her, and I couldn’t bring myself to go against him. He’d already lost one child, and I’d lost my sister. When Jackson happened, I thought he was the leader we needed to save innocent lives. Then,” he takes a ragged breath, “Victoria’s death happened. My wife. Allison’s mother.”

“I know you, Isaac, and Boyd weren’t involved. I know it was wrong to use three teenagers to try to draw him out.” He looks over. “You three have the potential to be dangerous, but then, so does any teenager convinced that getting their hands on an automatic weapon and going on a shootout is a good idea. You’re teenagers. You’re about the age of my daughter. Moreover, I never should have let that fact just rest in the back of my mind. Given what I did, I can’t blame you for not trusting me, but the fact is, I’m not pretending to care. I do.”

It’s too much, and she bursts into tears.

She can feel his alarm and confusion. When he tentatively puts a hand on her shoulder, she moves closer, and he pulls her against him.

When she finally anchors herself, she realises how awkwardly they’re sitting. He has his arms around her as best he can with the console between the seats, and his hand is in her hair.

Pulling away, she mutters, “I got you all wet.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m fine. What about you?”

“I screwed up. I kissed someone besides Boyd. And that- that isn’t even the worse part. The worst part is that I kissed Aiden, one of the twins. He locked me and Boyd in a vault. He and his brother were terrible to us. They literally tried to kill us. What kind of messed up am I that I do-”

“You made a mistake,” he interrupts. “I definitely wouldn’t recommend you make a habit out of being anywhere near either twin unless you have to, but I’m assuming he found you in a moment of weakness?”

“Who cares? He tried to kill us. For everything I am, for everything I’ve done, I’m not so- I’m not supposed to be this completely- God, I don’t even know the best word. Boyd would, though,” she tells him, and she can hear the almost hysteria in her voice.

“I’m taking you to the penthouse,” he declares.

She doesn’t argue.

As he’s driving, he says, “I imagine there are a lot of words Boyd would use to describe you. I don’t think any of them come close to the words you’re applying to yourself.”

She scoffs.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Yeah,” she answers. “I have to. I’ve never lied to him, and he’s never lied to me. And I used to watch these shows where people would cheat, feel terrible, and then, not tell because they couldn’t stand the thought of losing the person they were with. And I could sympathise, but one day, my mami told me, ‘If you have to lie to get or keep someone, it’s not the real you they’ll be loving.’”

“I’m trying very hard not to get involved in this, but not telling someone something and lying-”

“You don’t accept that from Allison, and even though I’ve been lying to my mother for over a year and she might not love the real me if she ever finds out, she doesn’t accept that, either. Neither would Boyd, and neither would I. We don’t tell each other everything, but something like this is too important not to tell.”

“I can’t imagine anything could stop your mother from loving you.”

He pulls into the complex's parking lot.

…

Inside, she dismisses his awkward concern about her wet clothes by putting trash bags over the couch and reminding him, “Werewolf. I’m fine.”

“You can stay for the night. The guestroom is a little under-furnished, but it’s warm and dry. We can make up the bed.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you need me to call anyone?”

“I’ll call my mom.”

…

She’s eating a bowl of oatmeal when Allison comes in.

“Dad!”

“He’s in the bathroom,” she says.

“I’ll be out in just a minute, sweetheart,” Chris calls. “Don’t worry about Erica.”

“Okay," Allison says. “Did you come to get the movies back? I’m on The Stepford Children right now.”

“No. This kidnapping was a lot less violent.”

Chris reappears. “Sweetheart, I found Erica sitting in the hailstorm. I told her she could sleep in the guestroom tonight.”

“You’re all wet,” Allison realises.

“Trash bags,” she answers with a gesture towards them.

Before she can react, Allison has taken the bowl and handed it to Chris. “We need to find you something dry. I’ll put those in the dryer once you’ve changed.”

As Chris puts the bowl in the microwave, she protests, “I don’t need-”

“Dad, you might need to leave the room,” Allison says. “I’m not sure she wouldn’t change right in front of you.”

She’s not sure why this works, but she finds herself following Allison.

After Allison digs through several boxes, she holds up a large, paint-covered t-shirt. “I think this might fit you. I wore it for painting when I was younger.”

Stripping down to her panties, Erica slips it on. It isn’t exactly comfortable, but it does fit.

Allison examines the mud and holes on the clothes. “We should wash these. And maybe do some sewing.”

“You know that this doesn’t change anything, right,” Erica blurts out. “I still tried to kill Lydia, and I would have done anything, including sex, with Scott if he gave me the chance. You still tried to kill me and my boyfriend with arrows, hurt Isaac and Derek, and tortured me and Boyd with electricity.”

Allison shrugs. “If you don’t let change anything, it won’t for you. Personally, I’m going to keep changing things for me.”

Then, she walks out before Erica can respond.

…

At school, she and Boyd sit together on a bench, and he gives her a concerned look. “What happened?”

She’s glad he didn’t try to kiss her. She’s afraid she would have leaned away if he did.

She’s brushed her teeth, flossed, and used mouthwash. She knows any scent from Aiden grabbing her wrist is long gone.

Some part of her still feels as if Boyd will somehow know if he kisses her, and of all the way she doesn’t want him to find out-

“To start with, I kissed someone else, and I know it was wrong, and I’m so sorry. You can say or do anything you want, but don’t say I don’t love you. I made a really big frelling mistake, but I do love you.”

He looks at her for a long moment.

“You kissed someone?” Before she can answer, the bell rings, and he wraps his hand around her wrist. “Let’s skip."

…

“Let’s focus on Allison and her dad dropping you off, first.”

“Fair enough,” she agrees. “Um, after the kiss,” she can’t help but grimace, “I just needed to be alone. Unfortunately, it started hailing, and Mr Argent appeared. He wouldn’t leave without me. I had a breakdown in his car, and they let me sleep in the guestroom.”

“Who did you kiss?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Did you want to tell me about the kiss?”

“No, but I needed to.” Sighing, she resists the urge to lean against him and curl up. “I kissed someone else. That’s important. Who it was-” She trails off.

“What happened? Why did you?”

“I was just having a really bad day. And he kind of said the right things- or at least, they sounded right, and it just happened before I really knew it was.”

“Why didn’t you find me?”

“Because, you had work, and later, you were with Lydia.”

“Working on a science project. If you didn’t want me-”

“That’s the thing,” she interrupts. “I do want you to get her help. I want you to keep getting A pluses and impressing teachers, and I’m glad the two of you have fun. I just- I just-” Shaking her head, she says, “Sometimes, I can’t help but think that you might be happier with someone else. Someone who knows more than ten elements and doesn’t have severe impulse issues.”

“We balance each other,” he says. “Without you, I’d still be lonely. Playing lacrosse and watching Isaac and Derek isn’t the same as-” He shakes his head. “What kind of elements are we talking about, and what do they have to do with this?”

“Oh, right,” she says. “There’s the weather elements, and then, there’s the periodic table. Basically? That. I’m not stupid, but I’m not like you. I have trouble with English, I got my parents to get my second language class waived, and I’m average at science and chemistry.”

“So?”

“So, maybe, you’d be happier with someone who knows those sort of things.”

“Would they be able to tell me about comics and sci-fi shows? Would they tell me all their thoughts about the characters? I don’t need someone to tell me the stuff I already know.”

“I’m sorry I kissed him,” she says. “It was stupid, and I hate myself for it.”

He pulls her over, and she gratefully leans against him. “I don’t want you to hate yourself. So, you don’t want him?”

“God, no,” she exclaims. “All I want is you.”

“Then, if you want, this doesn’t have to change anything.”

Closing her eyes, she moves away. “Look, I know how screwed up it was. But who it is- I guess I was just trying to convince myself it wasn’t important.”

He waits.

“It was Aiden. One of the twins. Who put us in the vault and tried to kill us, and yes, I know how-”

He pulls her back against him. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she answers. “He just sat down next to me in the park and start talking about how we –me and him- were the scapegoats. People walked over us and then punished us for fighting back. Lydia won’t give him the time of the day. When she first came to my locker that day, she said you were the good boy and I was the bad girl in our relationship. That got to me, and the thing is, for all the bad he’s done, I don’t think he was trying to cause trouble, this time. He said that, once you realised someone like Lydia was an option- Then, he pointed out how Scott and Allison didn’t last.”

“I don’t want options,” he says. “I haven’t since I realised being with you was possible.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats.

“It’s okay.” He kisses her head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

…

Later, they’re walking down the hall when Boyd pauses.

Stopping, she realises everyone but Stiles is inside a classroom.

Surprising her, he tugs her hand and says, “Let’s go.”

They go inside, and the tension is thick in the air.

“Here to confirm our study date,” Lydia inquires.

“Wednesday, right?” Boyd replies.

Lydia nods.

“Oh, really,” one of the twins mutters.

It disturbs her she can’t even tell if he’s the one she kissed.

“Which one are you,” Boyd inquires.

Suddenly, her stomach ties in knots, and she’s not surprised when he answers, “Aiden.”

Boyd kisses her gently on the lips, and then, suddenly, she’s watching as he has Aiden against the wall with his claws on Aiden’s throat.

“You told him,” Aiden says, and even though he can’t look at her properly, she knows it’s directed at her.

Everyone stills when Boyd speaks. “If you go near Erica, again, I’ll kill you.”

“I don’t know what she told you-”

“She told me you made her feel worse when she was already feeling bad. That you exacerbated her insecurities about my feelings for her. I don’t care if you planned the kiss or not. You shouldn’t have even sat down. Erica is my girlfriend. I’m not interested in Lydia for anything but homework. And if you come near my girlfriend again, I will kill you,” he finishes.      

He lets go, and Erica holds her hand out.

They leave.

“Thank you,” she says.

“I know you love me.”

“And I know you love me,” she responds.


End file.
